


Calleth you, cometh I

by palavapeite



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack Fic, Gen, M/M, and Adam curses enough to merit a Teen and Up rating, domestic AU, in which Cas cheats at scrabble, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 18:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palavapeite/pseuds/palavapeite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happily settled down with Sam and Cas, Dean prepares for the rest of his life spent in blissfully quiet, suburban domesticity. </p>
<p>That is, until the new neighbours move in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calleth you, cometh I

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: I have no idea how this could possibly fit into canon continuity, or how anything in this fic came about. It's pure crack. 
> 
> Thanks to [nerakrose](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nerakrose) for being brave enough to beta something that was written with no spell check on.

The early summer sun was shining in through the half open windows, curtains billowing in the slight breeze outside, and Dean's eyes wandered across the living room. This was it. The rest of his life was beginning here, now. With Sam clattering about with dishes in the kitchen off to his left and Castiel- 

"You look troubled," a low voice spoke behind him and Dean turned around. A smile spread on his face when he saw the focused expression in Cas' eyes as he struggled to read Dean's face, looking adorably bothered by the fact that, these days, it really was a matter of guessing. 

"I'm not troubled," Dean replied, slipping his hands around Cas's hips and pulling him closer into half an embrace. Cas relaxed slightly, letting his chin sink against Dean's shoulder. "I'm just having a harder time than I thought, realising that this... this all," he emphasised, shrugging lightly to indicate the house around them, "that this is to stay. I get to keep it." He leaned his head against Cas' and felt Cas smile. "I get to keep Sam, and you, in a time when the world isn't ending, when monsters aren't hunting my ass, or your ass, or Sam’s ass, or..."

Cas squeezed Dean's arm in reply and Dean fell silent. It was quiet for a moment, the faint sound of birds singing audible from outside. A couple of houses down a car door was slammed shut and the dog of the family across the street barked.

Peace. It was peace.

"I expect life will seem all but boring to you now," Castiel muttered dryly and Dean chuckled suggestively, fingertips pressing into Cas' lower back.

"Unless we find out other ways of making it inte-" 

The doorbell interrupted him. 

"I'm doing the dishes!" Sam yelled from the kitchen, as if that was a good excuse, and Dean sighed as he disentangled himself from Castiel to open the door. 

"Yes?" he asked and took a step back when the man outside straightened up, staring at him. 

"Dean Winchester," he said, a hint of thrill in his voice. 

"Uhm, yes? How did you- oh." Frowning, he took the envelope the other man held out to him and saw his name in black letters on what appeared to be their first official cable bill. Seemed like he'd missed the mailman.

"I came to say hello," the man caught Dean's attention again. He wasn't... exactly _smiling_ , but Dean thought he could sense a certain amount of tense excitement radiate from the broad shoulders and strong jaw in front of him. "We are moving in next door just today." 

"Oh," Dean replied, peering past the man and around the corner to see boxes standing out in the driveway. Normal life. Normal, suburban life! Smile sliding onto his face, he shook the man's hand. 

"Great! Uhm, yeah hi, I'm Dean." He could hear the shuffling of clothes and saw from the corner of his eye how Castiel had stepped up to his shoulder, looking in mild confusion at the man on their doorstep. "This is Cas; he lives here too, with me and my little brother Sam... Sam?", he called casually in the general direction of the kitchen. Turning back to his new neighbour, he saw an oddly pleased look on his face, brown eyes shining. "We just moved in ourselves... Nice to meet you, uh..."

"Michael."

"Michael," Dean repeated and was about to say something cordial, neighbourly and friendly before ushering Michael back on his merry way, when another voice called Michael's name - and Dean's blood froze. His hand shot up to clutch at the doorframe and he was sure he had to be hallucinating. It hadn't been, he must've heard wrong... Of course he must have been because it was... it was fucking _impossible_...

"Michael, are you fucking going to help here? If you-"

No.

His lungs feeling strangely tight, Dean shoved past Michael to step outside and look at the blonde man who was standing in the driveway one house over next to an unassuming family van, hands stemmed in his sides, looking pissed. 

"-even _think_ I'm going to move a single one of your fucking suit- ...oh, for fuck's sake, Michael!" Green eyes spotted Dean, then narrowed at Michael. " _Them_? Are you fucking shitting me?” He pointed back at the house, face reddening. “You think you two aren't already punishment enough?"

Michael inhaled as if to say something, but was cut off.

"SAM!" Dean called again, terror in his voice. " _SAM_!" 

Trying to keep breathing, Dean could hear dishes smash, followed by the familiar, comforting sound of Sam hurrying out of the kitchen, ready to fight, kill and maim. Castiel, he noticed, hadn't stopped staring at Michael.

"Dean, what-?" Sam's hand landed on Dean's shoulder and Dean could feel him stagger when he looked at "...Adam? Wh-...?"

"What's all the noise? Where are the rest of my boxes, boy?" a new voice suddenly said and Dean didn't, _didn't_ want to look at the man who had just stepped out of the neighbouring house onto the driveway, voice gleeful. "Oh! _Hi_ , Sam!" 

"No..." Sam might have been praying. "No... no, no, no..."

"Oh, fuck my life!" Adam threw his arms up and stomped back into the house. "I quit! I quit!" 

"Dean," Sam spoke close to his ear, voice low and shaking. His fingers had a death grip on Dean's shoulder. "What. Is going on." 

Dean swallowed and shook his head, every reply he'd ever had crushed to nothing by the smirk on Lucifer's face.

***

"Cas? Cas, can you please come out of there?"

There was no reply and Dean slumped against the door with a sigh. 

"Cas, it's been seven hours and fifty-eight minutes. Dinner is ready!" 

"I'm not hungry," came a toneless reply and Dean bumped his head against the wood. 

"Cas, both Sam and I really need to use the bathroom." 

Shuffling was audible after a long second of tense silence, and the lock clicked. Opening the door and stepping into the bathroom, Dean spotted Cas slumped on the closed toilet seat. Looking around, somewhat speechless, he decided to have a serious word with Sam about his number of beauty products, bottles, tubes and cans now no longer crammed into the small cabinet, but evenly displayed on all available surfaces, arranged by colour and size.

Cas' fingers twitched and he sounded unhappy with himself.

"I panicked."

***

“Dean-!”

“Composting was _your_ fucking idea, Sammy. No way.” 

“I can’t see him anymore, or hear the lawn mower-” 

“Why don’t you go, then?” Dean shoved the bucket with organic kitchen waste right back at Sam for the fifth time, narrowing his eyes to peer out of the window into the neighbour’s garden, where Michael had spent the entire morning trimming the lawn, with an obscenely giddy expression. Considering the Winchesters had made a habit out of avoiding their neighbours at any costs, this had put certain restraints on their freedom of movement. 

“I’m not going. Lucifer is still out there.” 

“He’s not.”

“Is, too.” 

Dean frowned and got onto his toes. Indeed, he could see Lucifer’s head and back bobbing up and down behind the fence, apparently...

“Dude, is he digging? What in hell...” Dean’s eyes widened and he looked at Castiel, who sat at the kitchen counter looking blank, then at Sam. “Wait, has either of you seen Adam today? What if-?”

“He’s not burying Adam in the back garden, Dean,” Sam cut him off, rolling his eyes with considerably less conviction than Dean would have wanted. “He’s just... I don’t know, gardening.”

“Gardening,” Dean replied evenly. “Right, I forgot there was something on Satan’s bucket list after ‘walk the earth’ and ‘kill fucking everyone’. If he’s just planting vegetables, why don’t you go?” 

“You cannot seriously be asking me this-”

“Why can’t Cas go?”

“Remember Detroit?”

Dean snorted. “So what? That was years ago! It’s not like they can smite him again! Cas?” 

“I would like to stay out of this discussion.” Cas didn’t look up from where he was looking at realtor ads in every newspaper he had been able to find at the kiosk that morning. 

“Dean, you’re the only one here who hasn’t had to share intimate quarters with the devil,” Sam flailed with the waste bucket, ignoring Dean’s groan. “And you didn’t spend two hours cornered in the driveway yesterday, explaining the entirety of his brand new fucking iPhone to him, okay? I’m pleading heavy emotional trauma and I am winning!” 

Five minutes later, Dean was ducking his head, trying to make his way back around and into the house before the father of the whole damn demon race decided to stop digging what Dean sincerely hoped wasn’t a DIY gate to hell...

“Dean!” 

Six foot two of heavenly battle tank suddenly appeared behind the fence right next to him. 

“Dean, I need your help,” Michael began urgently and Dean thought that sounded uncomfortably familiar. He shifted under Michael’s gaze, looking past him at a giant tool box next to an upended lawn mower. “I think it broke and I cannot find the source of the problem. I have seen you work on your car and I believe you might know what is wrong."

Oh, hell. 

“Uhm...” he hedged, then sighed, putting the empty organic waste basket down and heaving himself over the fence. He was entering enemy territory and Michael looked oddly pleased and excited and... “Where are you going?” 

“I’m getting us a beer, of course.” 

Of course, Dean thought hysterically. What else?

Michael had barely returned and managed to shove the cold bottle into Dean’s hand that Dean enlightened him with a plain, 

“Dude, nothing is wrong with the mower. You ran out of fuel.” 

“Oh.” Michael looked crestfallen for a moment. “So... I need more fuel?” 

“Yes,” Dean replied evenly. “From a petrol station or-” He turned his head when he saw someone walk up to the house from the corner of his eye. “Hey Adam, can you take Mic-?” 

“Fuck you, Dean,” was all Adam said in reply as he walked past them, letting himself into the house without sparing them another look. 

“Yeah, I’m really happy to see you’re not _buried in the backyard_!” Dean called after him and, when he saw Michael was staring at him again, finished his beer in one, long chug.

***

The door had barely fallen shut behind Dean when the bell above it rang again. Throwing a glance at a reflecting surface, Dean inwardly fumed when he saw Michael's attractively sweaty body enter the coffee shop. He had actually fucking followed him here on his morning run.

Deciding to ignore him best as possible, Dean headed for the counter and ordered his coffee, not looking at the former archangel when he stepped up to wait in line next to him. 

"Good morning," Michael said with utmost sincerity and Dean grunted a non-verbal reply, thankful when the girl behind the counter beamed a "Good morning!" back at Michael instead. 

His morning runs were not a social activity. He had already made that very clear to Sam and Cas. 

"I'm having the same as him," Michael told the barista and Dean counted the seconds until his coffee was slipped across the counter into his hand. Without another word, he turned around and left. 

When the glass door of the coffee shop closed behind him, Dean threw a glance back at Michael, who was struggling to fit the plastic lid onto his cup of plain, black coffee and casting furtive, slightly disappointed glances at the shop's other patrons, who were nursing fluffy-looking, twirly beverages topped with caramel and chocolate sprinkles. Dean smirked to himself before downing his coffee in one long go, throwing the cup into the nearest trash can and running back home.

***

"This isn't working," Sam pressed out, balancing on a creaking chair in their garden, peering down underneath his arm to look at Dean, who was leaning all of his weight against the side of their brand new garden shed to keep it upright while turning a tatty instruction manual over in his hands.

"Hang on," he muttered, two screws between his lips. "No, I think this is how it's supposed to-" 

"Dean!" Sam cried in exasperation, "Hurry the fuck up, I'm about to break my neck here!"

"I don't know what's wrong! We're doing it exactly how it looks in here!" 

"Well, evidently not!" Sam replied and let go of the board he was holding up to jump off onto the lawn and tear the instruction manual from Dean's hands. Their sad attempt at a garden shed collapsed behind them. "Let me see!" 

"Yeah, go ahead. I wanna see you make a better job of it!" Dean accused, scowling at Adam, who rolled his eyes at them from where he took laundry down off the rack in the neighbouring garden. "Nothing to see here!"

"Yeah, I noticed that much," Adam snarked back and grabbed his laundry basket with a fast jerk. He was about to return to their house, when Sam suddenly stepped forward. 

"Adam, wait!" He was wearing his concerned face. Adam stopped and looked at him with blank disinterest. Sam swallowed, his forehead worried. "Listen, I know we’re not..." Throwing up his arms in defeat, he sighed. "Just... Are you okay?" 

It was quiet for a long, long second, then Adam's shoulders sagged just a little and for a moment he stared back at Sam, unmoving, eyes slowly growing wider. He swallowed and his lower lip gave a twitch. 

"I..." He began, then inhaled shakily when his voice died with a croak. Sam took a step toward him, endless compassion and guilt on his face, and Adam dropped the laundry basket to the ground, looking pathetic. "...No, Sam," he sobbed."God, I... Actually, I really wanna cry for a bit right now, so can you please come over so I can put my head on your strong shoulder and _sob my way through all my sad, sad feelings_?" 

For a long, long heartbeat, everything about Sam seemed to stop.

Then Dean burst out into laughter, almost choking at the speed at which Sam's sorry-ass face contorted into a scowl, funnily not directed at Adam, but at him. He didn't care. He barely even felt the bitchslap to his shoulder, too busy laughing with his arms wrapped around his sides. 

Adam, he realised, had grabbed his laundry and disappeared back inside their house.

"He totally had you by the balls, man," he wheezed, dodging Sam's next slap and escaping before Sam decided to tackle him to the ground for good measure.

***

It took Dean a moment to realise that he was waking up before ten on a Sunday morning because his cell was ringing, sound muffled underneath a pair of jeans, his wifebeater and Castiel’s socks on top of it. Extending an arm to the side and off the bed in an attempt to both retrieve it and move as little as possible while doing so, Dean fumbled for the phone, squinting first at the time on his bedside table clock - 7:12am - and then at the unknown number on the small, bright screen.

“Yeah?” he rasped and ran his free hand through Castiel’s hair when he began to move at his side, limbs sleepily shifting against Dean’s skin where they were wrapped around each other. 

“ _Dean._ ” 

The alarmed voice on the other end jerked Dean awake in less than a heartbeat and Castiel groaned in protest when Dean’s fingers inadvertently gripped his hair hard. Removing his hand,  
Dean halted and frowned in confusion when it hit him whose voice it was. 

“Michael?” 

“ _Dean-_ ”

“How the hell did you get this number?” Dean said in a hushed voice as he tried to disentangle himself from Castiel’s octopus design without waking him up completely. 

“ _It was on a note right next to our telephone_ ,” Michael answered. “ _I am encountering a problem and I don’t know what to do._ ”

“A problem?” Dean asked, abandoning his attempt at getting out of bed when Castiel blinked up at him blearily, a slight frown on his face that eased when Dean shook his head to signal it wasn’t an emergency. 

“ _\- and I cannot get it to turn onto any other programme. I have looked at the manual, but the part that I think is important seems to have been soaked through by something dark green-_ ”

“...what?”

“ _The washing machine, it-_ ”

“Whoa, okay. Hold it right there,” Dean snapped. “You call on fucking Sunday on the asscrack of dawn to ask about your damned laundry? Like it’s a fucking emergency? For fuck's sake, I have seen Adam put laundry up-” He didn’t wait for Michael to finish telling him that Adam was currently not ( _still_ not, apparently) talking to him. “No, you know what, I’m hanging up.”

***

“I thought you wanted to sit outside and breathe the fresh summer air,” Dean remarked as he walked down into the kitchen, where Sam was currently investigating how many and what kind of fake documents and paper trails he was going to have to conjure up in order to be able to get back into college. After his last late shift at the petrol station he had declared that while he still felt guilty about living primarily off various kinds of fraud, sometimes sacrifices had to be made for long-term goals.

“I wanted to,” Sam replied, voice clipped. “But now there is a former archangel building a rose arch out of sweat, determination and homoeroticism in his garden, wearing nothing but tiny, striped shorts. Apparently I have you to thank for the fact that he ran out of clothes two days ago.” 

“Well, someone's done the laundry by now,” Dean remarked, nodding at the two long lines of socks, pants, and a large number of shirts that Dean was sure were not Michael’s. 

“Adam, but don’t let him know that you know,” Sam muttered. “Please don’t piss Michael off because you can, Dean. Or any of them. They're probably still a force to be reckoned with."

"...what’s Lucifer _doing_?” Dean narrowed his eyes, ignoring Sam entirely and Sam sighed. 

“Hovering. Watching Michael. Eating cake. Waiting for me to stick my nose outside. He bought a MacBook yesterday...”

“Huh.” Dean rubbed his face and his gaze fell on a stack of bills on the kitchen counter. “Hey, how do _they_ even afford all of this? It’s not like any of them has a job...” 

“I bet the former prince of heaven and the ex ruler of hell know a trick or two. At least one of them can probably leech millions off the Vatican without anyone noticing...”

Dean snorted, then grabbed his car keys. Damn. Obviously, Cas had to be the one angel with a conscience...

“I’m taking the baby out for a spin. I’ll pick up Cas from the museum on the way.” 

“He still staring at the same rock as last week or has he learned all he can from it yet?”

“Damned if I know.”

***

"We just got this in the mail today," Michael blurted out, holding out a colourful piece of paper to Dean, who stood in the door, looking at Michael in bewilderment. He glanced down at the piece of paper and frowned at a big cruise ship and a woman lying on the beach in a tiny bikini.

"...and?" he asked and Michael shook his head. 

"I don't know! It wants me to fill in my name and information. I don't know what is customary in this case. I saw Adam fill out forms the other day, but they were different..."

Dean cut him off by ripping the piece of paper from Michael's hand and tearing it down the middle. Twice. 

"It's a scam lottery," he replied simply. "Shred it and throw it out."

***

Dean could hear her affected laugh all the way to where he stood bent over the trunk of the Impala, collecting groceries back into their bags. He glanced over to look at Michael standing at the fence, being chatted up by Miss Peterson from down the street, who was just telling him how extraordinarily good the coffee at the new cafe in town was. Dean bit his lip to stifle his laughter, when Michael replied evenly, but sincerely,

"Thank you. I haven't taken to coffee myself, but I know Adam likes it very much. I will make sure to pass your recommendation on to him." 

Dean decided to spare her the embarrassment of getting a grip on the situation by slamming the trunk shut and attracting both their attention. 

"Dean!" Michael greeted with a smile and Dean smirked, nodding politely at Miss Peterson, who mumbled something and retreated with a last, awkward wave at Michael, who looked confused for a moment before walking across the patch of lawn towards Dean. 

"Dude," Dean snickered, juggling a carton of eggs on top of the bags in his arms while fishing for his keys in his pocket. "What is up with you? She's a total fox!"

A frown appeared on Michael's forehead and Dean wondered how many of their neighbours had already fallen for his stupidly handsome mug without him ever having caught on. 

"I don't understand," Michael stated matter-of-factly, a hint of self-deprecation in his voice. "What are you saying?" 

"She was trying to get you to ask her out, man," Dean rolled his eyes. "Humans do that. But you might as well have slapped her in the face with all that slack you didn't cut her..." 

"Oh." Michael seemed to struggle with the information and not quite know where to put his hands.

"There's nicer ways of letting someone down," Dean explained, then added, "Provided you really aren't interested, of course...?" 

Michael gazed at Dean, head slightly tilted. He looked both curious and judgemental, and for a second he reminded Dean so much of Cas when he had first met him that he shifted back a little. Michael contemplated Dean for a moment longer, then blinked, a fierceness in his eyes Dean hadn't seen before. He sounded almost hurt.

"I have Lucifer." 

Dean, having pulled his keys from his pocket, promptly dropped them, along with the glass of low-fat mayonnaise that had balanced on top of one of the bags. 

"Wh-" he blurted out, juggling a carton of eggs to avoid a bigger mess, "You mean- you- ...what?" 

Michael hadn't moved, but seemed otherwise unfazed by Dean's reaction. 

"Lucifer," he repeated. 

"You mean you and Lucifer? You're like... You're... _you and Lucifer_? Together?"

Michael looked confused, as if he wasn't sure he knew what they were talking about. 

"Yes."

Dean gaped.

"Dude, he's your _brother_!" 

Michael stared at him blankly for a moment, then his face began to morph into a faintly taunting smirk Dean swore he must've learned from Sam. Or, alternatively, Lucifer, and hey, there was an uncomfortable thought... 

"Dean," Michael spoke slowly, pointedly, “You do realise that Lucifer and I are 'related' merely in that we were created by the same divine being?" He paused expectantly, then continued, "Human family relations are not actually applicable to angels in more than an abstract, figurative way..."

"But..." Dean's mind reeled. He narrowed his eyes. He knew that, of course. He did! Angels were... giant balls of lethal shiny and junkless dick, and wow, there was another thing he hadn't wanted to picture. "But you're human now. Your bodies-" 

"Do not share genetic material to an extent that would seem significant to human genealogy," Michael frowned, looking down at himself in bewilderment. His eyes met Dean's. "A body makes no difference to angels, Dean." 

His gaze was suddenly intense and Dean averted his eyes.

"I guess..." He trailed off, unlocking the front door and pushing it open, careful not to step into the puddle of mayonnaise at his feet. He looked back at Michael, eyes darting up and down his body. "Whose meatsuit is this, anyway? I can see that Lucifer recycled Nick somehow, but who exactly are _you_ riding, since it's obviously not Adam? Or, you know, me?"

Michael smiled and ran his hands down his chest. 

"A distant relative, I believe." He sounded almost proud. "I take great pleasure in this form. It resembles that of John Winchester and I find it both practical and attractive."

"Dude," Dean groaned as he stepped inside the house. "TMI."

***

Standing next to Castiel and drying off the dishes he handed him, Dean let his gaze trail out the window into the adjacent garden, where the back of Lucifer's head was visible as he bent over his many budding rose bushes.

"Did you know the angelic brothers next door are boning each other?" He asked casually and glanced at Cas to see him raise an eyebrow. 

"I have my doubts whether 'boning' is an adequate description of their relationship, but yes. I expected such." 

Dean grimaced. 

"...and? You don't think that's fucking weird?" 

Cas regarded him for a long moment, as if he was trying to guess what Dean was getting at. Eventually he said, slowly,

"You do realise that they are in no way brothers the way you and Sam are?" 

"Yes, I get that," Dean replied with a groan. Castiel didn't look convinced and he stopped scrubbing the last of the plates. Soap was dripping from his fingers.

"Dean, angels do not have bodies that share genetic coding. We do not procreate; we are made and then we exist. That is what we share... as a kind. That is what makes us ‘brothers’ or ‘sisters’.” Cas paused again, then frowned to himself. “Human language cannot actually describe angels in more than a vaguely metaphorical-"

"Fine," Dean gritted out. "I get it, okay? But still... it's Michael and Lucifer! That's gotta be at least a little weird?" 

"Actually," Cas smiled, handing Dean the soapy plate so their fingers touched. "Few were ever created to complement each other so completely as they do." 

Dean held Cas' gaze for a moment and felt his patience for actual conversation wear thin. A grin appeared on his face. 

"Is this where you make another feeble attempt at a dick joke, Cas?" 

A private smile tugged at Cas' lips and he wet them before replying-

Sam's heavy footfall was audible and a second later he towered in the kitchen door, looking exasperated. 

"A puppy," he burst out. "They got a freaking puppy!"

***

"For fuck's sake, Cas, could you have made a bigger scene?"

Stomping across the IKEA parking lot towards the Impala, Dean deliberately ignored the buzzing of his phone in his pocket in favour of aggressively browsing his keychain for the car key. Cas followed him with stiff movements, lips pressed together in a silent 'I pulled you from the pit - and right now I want to throw you right back in'.

Flopping into the driver's seat, he watched how Cas was definitely not in a hurry to get into the car at all. Dean's phone buzzed again and instead of giving Cas the satisfaction of waiting for him, he impatiently looked at his cell. 

_Sparks are flying in the microwave. Adam is not home. Michael_

Dean sighed in frustration and ignored Castiel's frosty look. 

_I turned off the microwave, but it smells funny. Can I still eat the food? Michael_

Dean contemplated texting back, but the sight of Cas next to him, arms crossed and pointedly staring ahead, made him throw his phone onto the back seat and start the car. 

They had barely pulled out of the parking lot, when Dean's phone buzzed yet again and Cas blurted out, 

"It was supposed to be my room, Dean. I deserve a space of my own, just like you and Sam." 

"We need storage space, Cas!" Dean replied heatedly. "You can't keep complaining about the mess and the boxes, but refuse to let us put a fucking storage closet-"

"I hated all of those fucking storage closets!" Cas snapped back and oh, Dean knew it was a fight when Cas started to use cusswords. "Why don't you put one up in your own fucking room?" 

Dean laughed cruelly. 

"I would if there was any fucking space in there with all of your shit cluttering it up!" 

" _You_ invited me to share it," Cas stated dangerously and Dean bit his lip because yeah, that much was actually true. The phone started ringing and almost drowned out Castiel when he continued, "And you still have your den of masculinity in the garage, and Sam has his corner in the basement! I deserve this room!" 

The ringing didn't seem to cease.

"Maybe you should start using it sometime, then!" 

And damn, Dean thought, that had come out wrong. The phone on the back seat fell silent, just like Castiel next to him. A sudden pang of guilt spread in Dean's stomach and he wet his lips, trying to fix what he'd just said. He hadn't meant to imply that Cas should move out of his bedroom. He really didn't _want_ Cas to move out of his bedroom. Ever. 

Before he could say something, however, Cas had extended a hand and turned on the radio, loud enough to make clear how he didn't want to hear anything Dean had to say. 

The rest of the drive passed in stony silence and only when they had pulled up to their front door did Cas switch off the music again.

"Cas," Dean began, but his boyfriend had already gotten out and slammed the door shut before storming into the house. Dean muttered a curse and grabbed his phone before getting out himself. 

"Dean!" 

Michael's approaching figure made Dean suddenly irrationally angry. 

"No!" He snarled and Michael stopped dead. Dean locked the car and pointed a finger at Michael as he walked up to the front door. "I don't wanna hear it. I don't care! I don't _care_ , do you hear me? I'm not your vessel, or your servant; I'm not responsible for your shit; I'm not there to come running whenever you fucking feel like it, got it? I. Don't. Care!"

He didn't stick around to listen to whatever Michael did or didn't say in reply. Faintly registering the confused looks of Sam and, to his surprise, Adam, who sat in the kitchen looking at something on Sam's laptop, Dean stomped up the stairs to find Castiel in his own, largely unfurnished room. Cardboard boxes of things they had bought, and all sorts of stuff they hadn't managed to find a place for anywhere else in the house cluttered up the floor and corners and Dean's shoulders sagged. Castiel was facing away from him and Dean could see the tension in his shoulders. 

"Cas, I'm sorry," Dean sighed, stepping closer and inwardly rejoicing when Cas didn't move away at the touch of Dean's fingers at his hips. Pulling him closer until his back was snug against Dean's front, Dean nuzzled the back of his neck. "It came out all wrong and I'm sorry. You're right. Forget the stupid closet. We'll find someplace else."

"I don't mind having a storage closet in my room," Cas sighed, sounding sorry himself. "I just... I didn't like any of them. I... I don't want any of those closets in here..." His hands found Dean's around his waist. "I'm not good at this," he added quietly. "I don't know what I want a room that is just mine to look like. This is a new concept for me and-" 

"It's okay," Dean muttered, kissing at the nape of Castiel's neck. "For once in our lives, we actually have time. It's a new concept for me too."

***

Dean found Sam in his own private corner in the basement a couple of hours later. Adam was still with him, and casserole and cherry pie had appeared from somewhere and stood on the low table next to the second-hand sofa Sam had picked up from a flea market. A sizeable number of empty beer bottles were lying around.

"That must have been a new record in volume, even for you and Cas," Sam greeted him and Dean grinned smugly. 

"Make-up sex is the best sex." Helping himself to pie, he pulled up the office chair from Sam's messy desk and sat down. Sam grimaced the way he always did when Dean mentioned how he and Cas got laid well on a regular basis. Somehow he always seemed to consider it implied that Sam was the only one who didn't.

"What are you doing, anyway?"

"Figuring out how to get the both of us back into college," Sam replied, running a hand through his hair. Dean frowned at Adam. 

"You wanna go back to college?"

"Some of us had a life before the Winchester freak show came to town, yeah," Adam drawled and Dean smirked.

"Watch it. Without the Winchester freak show you'd have ended up a red stain on a sanitary pad." Looking at the pie, Dean made an appreciative noise before Adam could give voice to his bitchface. "Hey, this is really good!" 

"You're welcome. All courtesy of Lucifer," Adam grinned fiendishly and Dean was so surprised that his mouthful threatened to fall back out onto the plate for a moment. 

" _Lucifer_ made this?" Dean blurted out once and Adam held his gaze for a long, painful moment, in which Dean wondered whether it was too late to throw it all up in case he was being poisoned as part of an elaborate plot.

Sam watched him for a moment, then rolled his eyes and shoved Adam in the ribs.

"Come on, no! He didn't."

Dean looked from Sam back to Adam, who promptly started laughing.

"No, he didn't. Oh god, Lucifer is the only person I have ever known who manages to simultaneously undercook everything _and_ burn it to a crisp..." He took a swig of beer and shook his head again. "He just brings them home. This casserole came from Mr Olaf at number seventeen. Lucifer plays bridge there once a week."

"He what?" Dean stared dumbly at Adam. "But... I thought he despised people on principle? Wasn't that like, his thing? Hating humanity?"

"Oh, he does," Adam chuckled. "But considering he's human himself these days, he's had to... work through some issues. Some days are still difficult, to tell the truth..." He shrugged. "He has a very short list of people he doesn't want to see die. The rest of them he cons into being his minions. He's got most of the street eating out of his hand at this point." 

Dean looked from Adam to Sam, who had one eyebrow raised at him. 

"But... How?"

"Dude," Sam shook his head. "He's _Lucifer_. Can you think of an angel who got more followers on earth than him? If there's one thing he knows, it's how to get people to dance to his pipe..." 

"Are you saying our entire neighbourhood is in deal with the fucking devil? There has _got_ to be something wrong with that..."

"Pretty much, yeah," Adam nodded. "They like Michael a lot too, actually, but it's Lucifer they're stupidly crazy for." 

"And do they know that... you know, Michael and Lucifer...?"

Sam sighed when Adam looked confused for a moment.

"Yeah, you see," Sam drawled smugly, "Dean only figured that one out like, yesterday, when Michael flat out told him about it..." 

Adam, who'd been lifting his bottle to his lips, halted and glared at Dean in disbelief. Lowering his hand again, he threw him a look that spelt 'you have got to be kidding me' in capital letters. 

"What?" Dean shifted, deciding that he hated Sam for not letting him live that one down. "It's not _that_ obvious!"

"Dude." Adam shook his head. "I knew you weren't the heaviest book on the shelf, but how exactly did you manage to miss the high-frequency gay-married-with-a-kid vibe that's bleeding out of every single white board of our picket fence?" 

Sam burst out into laughter. 

"Oh, go back to hell, the both of you," Dean muttered and rudely grabbed Adam's beer bottle from his hands.

***

It was Castiel who picked up Dean's phone when it rang in the middle of the night. Five seconds later, Dean felt it shoved into his hands and he sat up.

"Hello?"

" _Dean_ ," Michael's voice was audible and he sounded subdued. " _Dean, I'm sorry for calling you this late._ " The sound of a train could be heard in the background and Dean frowned. 

"What the hell, man? Where are you?" 

" _At a payphone behind the train station._ " Michael sounded miserable. " _I went for a walk across town earlier today and I lost my wallet and keys..._ " He paused. " _The line is clicking_."

"You're running out of money," Dean replied. 

" _Oh_." Michael's voice was quiet. " _Dean, can you please come and pick me up?_ "

***

"What the fuck, Michael?" Dean blurted out when Michael slumped into the passenger seat of the Impala, sporting a black eye and a bruised cheek bone. Which he had conveniently forgotten to mention on the phone. Dean's eyes widened. "Did you get fucking _mugged_?"

Michael glanced at him, looking uncomfortable. 

"I was taken by surprise."

"And you what, passed out in a dark alley?" Dean gaped. "You're the archangel Michael, for heaven's sake!" 

"I have never had to take a physical swing at anybody in all my existence," Michael replied defensively and Dean's mind reeled for a second. 

"You have got to be kidding me," he muttered as he started the car, shaking his head. "All that angel mojo, but you can't pull a right hook? Oh, man..." 

It was quiet for a minute, then Michael turned his head. 

"Thank you for coming to get me, Dean." 

Dean swallowed and nodded, fingers flexing around the steering wheel. 

"I'm sure Adam would've come for you. Did you call him at all?" 

"No," Michael muttered. "I got enough money for one call from the cleaning lady at the train station. Adam... I couldn't." He seemed to struggle with words, then pressed out, "I was too embarrassed to. Adam has enough on his plate. And Lucifer..." He trailed off, sounding properly uncomfortable now. "You were there the last time someone attempted to harm me in his presence, weren't you...?" 

Dean swallowed, getting the distinct impression that even if blowing up people with the snip of his fingers was technically no longer an option for Lucifer, he was not above finding a way of making it work anyway.

"So I called you because yours is the only other number I know by heart," Michael explained and Dean could feel a somewhat uncomfortable pang of guilt in his stomach. 

"Yeah, what's..." He cleared his throat. "What's up with that, actually? You know..." He took a deep breath. "I mean, why... What is it about me that you even give a fuck? Aren't I like, the last fucking person on this planet you'd want to talk to?"

"You were the only person, Dean," Michael replied quietly. "I... I don't really know a lot about humanity nowadays, you know. When we... got here... The only human I knew was Adam - and you, kind of. I couldn't ask any more of Adam, so I thought that if I found _you_ , everything might be okay." 

"But _why_?" Dean blurted out. Damn, he had forgotten how long it had taken to get Castiel to stop saying inappropriately awkward things like that... "I make the worst life choices ever! And I was nothing but rude and shitty to you!" 

"That’s not true. You are just and kind," Michael answered stubbornly. "You have courage, and you wouldn't bow to me when I had the power to annihilate you with a thought. You inspire bravery and loyalty in others. I appreciate these qualities." 

"My boyfriend fucking molotoved you and you think that's admirable?" This was awkward on so many levels, Dean didn't know what to do. Although he should probably let Cas know, so he could stop acting like a teenager with an awkward, guilty crush around Michael...

"Well, he even called me an..." Michael blushed slightly. "You know." He shifted. "It doesn't matter. You are the righteous man, Dean." 

"I..." Okay, that was too many feelings. Dean swallowed. "Wh-what about Adam?" 

"Adam," Michael said fondly, "is a very angry young man." 

"That," Dean snorted, "must be the understatement of the century." They shared a chuckle and Dean was glad to find Michael moved as easily from 'deeply, emotionally sincere' to 'acceptably casual' as Dean needed him to. 

"Lucifer likes him," Michael said, smiling softly. "And even if he pretends it isn't so, Adam likes him a lot, too. I think they make it easier for each other." 

"And you?" Dean asked and Michael sounded solemn. 

"I do what I can," he said. "But it isn't always that simple. I am... I care about them, but I find it hard to be down here what I used to be in heaven." 

"You know, I'm not sure this is a bad thing," Dean muttered and Michael huffed, prodding at his bruised cheek with a finger and flinching.

"This human form is... frustrating, sometimes. It... demands things I am not used to." He hesitated. "It _wants_ things. I find that irritating." He paused, then scowled. "Lucifer, of course thinks it's incredibly funny."

Dean's face felt hot and he was glad to pull up into his driveway and turn off the engine. He was not having a sex talk with Michael on top of everything. No way. 

Glancing over at Michael's house, he saw the light on the front step come on. 

"Adam's still up," he nodded towards the lean, dark figure hovering in the doorway. 

"Thank you, Dean," Michael said again, eyes wide and sincere. "For everything." 

"You're welcome," Dean replied, and he realised that he actually meant it. 

Castiel was waiting for Dean when he walked up the couple of steps to their door, hand outstretched. Dean took it and let himself be pulled close, feeling very tired all of a sudden. Stepping into the house, he thought he could hear Adam say "fuck, he is going to be so pissed tomorrow" before the door fell shut behind him.

***

It had been pouring all day and Sam looked spooked as he glanced out of their living room window into the adjacent garden.

"It's beginning to get seriously scary," he muttered, turning to Dean, who was indulging Cas' partiality to Scrabble. Dean, who had just told a scowling Cas that Enochian words didn't count, followed Sam's gaze. 

Lucifer had been out in the rain since before Dean had got up that morning, busy with what could only be described as belligerent gardening. He was on all fours in the wet earth, angrily pulling weeds out from between his roses and ever growing vegetable patch and throwing them into the nearby wheelbarrow. 

Looking over to their house, Dean could spot Adam standing in the back door, apparently calling out to Lucifer, but getting no reaction whatsoever. Eventually, Adam heaved a visible sigh and disappeared back inside. Through the window, Dean saw him join a meek looking Michael in the lit up kitchen, moving steaming plates of food around. Michael's bruise looked better than it had the night before, but it was still very visibly there. 

Sam put a plate of pizza down in front of him and Dean's attention was back at the table. 

"I told you, Cas, no Enochian!" he said grumpily and Cas pointedly put down his last letter. 

"It's a phone company," he said stubbornly and glared at Sam when he coughed 'proper noun' under his breath before shoving a forkful of pizza into his mouth.

***

It was almost dark outside - not that the day had been particularly bright at any point - and Dean had only got up to get himself another beer before getting back to the marathon of Die Hard movies they had decided to waste the day on, when movement in the neighbours' garden attracted his attention. Squinting out into the dusk, he saw that Lucifer was still there, bending and tying his roses to grow up and along the arch Michael had built for them over a month ago.

Dean wondered whether he had ever even stopped for a minute in the past ten hours.

Standing a couple of feet away, he could spot Michael, just as soaked as Lucifer, watching motionlessly. Dean wasn't sure whether they were talking, but when Michael extended a hand and grabbed the hem of Lucifer's shirt, and Lucifer suddenly stilled in his movements, Dean averted his eyes, feeling like a perv. 

Grabbing a beer for himself and one for Sam, he closed the fridge and turned to leave. Switching off the lights as he went, he saw that Michael had grabbed both of Lucifer's hands and pulled him closer, holding them up to inspect his palms while Lucifer's attention was fixed on Michael's face. 

When he came to get another beer some time later, the garden was empty.

***

"Where's Sam?"

"I don't know, I thought he was talking to Lucifer across the fence," Dean replied, never ceasing the polishing motion over the Impala's hood. 

"That was like, five hours ago. Lucifer and Michael left for church at ten. I haven't seen anyone since then."

Dean's hand slipped and he looked up at Adam. 

"Church? Seriously?"

Adam held up both his hands. 

"Hey man, Lucifer brought it up at breakfast and I'm not going to keep them from it."

Dean shot him a look. 

"No, _Cas_ went to church. He was back at eleven."

"Oh, I know," Adam replied, a grin tugging at his lips. "But again, not getting involved. I really don't need to know. Trust me." 

"Huh," Dean replied, then jerked his head towards the house. "Guess Sam must be in his batcave. Either that or the kitchen." 

Adam didn't bother to thank him before he disappeared again.

***

"Dean!" Michael called across the fence and Dean turned his head. Next to him, Cas had apparently fallen asleep in his sun chair, his book resting against his chest.

"What is it?" he asked, walking to the fence and doing a slight double-take when he saw what Michael was holding. "Where did you get that?" 

"It's my turn to clean the bathroom and I found those at the back of a drawer..." Michael frowned when he pulled a small foil packet out of the box and eyed it curiously. "I think they're Adam's, but... what are they?" 

Dean fought the overwhelming urge to laugh and blush all at the same time. 

"Stop waving them across the fence, for one," he chuckled and tore the little foil package out of Michael's fingers. "Two, put them back where you found them and don't _ever_ mention them to Adam. Just trust me on this, okay?"

"Okay," Michael replied, lowering his voice and frowning at the back of the box. "But..."

"They're condoms," Dean said, amused beyond description. When Michael didn't look like that meant anything to him, he added, "I can explain, but not here and not now." 

"It says something about pleasure and unforgettable sensation on here," Michael read, sounding intrigued and Dean suppressed a giggle when he heard Cas stir in the chair behind him. "What I don't get is how does it-"

"It's a human thing," Dean said pointedly. "Like, a very physical, human thing..."

Michael stared at him, brow furrowed, mind working full speed.

"Wh- _oh_!" His face fell and he looked terrified for a moment when he caught on. An expression of discomfort and embarrassment settled on his features. "I... understand." He blushed and suddenly looked like he wanted nothing more than not to be holding a pack of condoms in his back garden. 

"Just put it back," Dean grinned, dropping the condom between his fingers back into the box. Michael exhaled forcibly and nodded.

"I will. And... I will not mention it to Adam." 

"No, better don't." The box was pretty much full. Poor guy. 

"I... thank you, Dean," Michael muttered and looked around, cradling the box to his front as he shuffled back into the house. Dean chuckled under his breath and turned around to see Castiel glare at him disbelievingly from where he lay in his chair. 

"What?" he asked, still chuckling, and Cas shook his head. He had largely gotten over his terrified creeper habits when it came to Michael, but apparently sex ed was pushing his limits. He buried his head in his hands, then flinched, frowning at his palms.

It took Dean a moment to realise that Cas wasn't so much blushing as he had gotten himself a flaming sunburn across his nose and cheeks, and Dean tilted his head back and laughed even harder.

***

"I'm home!" Dean yelled and threw his keys onto the counter next to the door while toeing his shoes off. "Sam? Cas?"

He stuck his head into the living room to find it empty, then walked on into the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks when he found himself face to face with Lucifer. 

"Welcome home, darling," Lucifer said smoothly, a smirk on his face. 

"What the fuck?" Dean blurted out, staring down Lucifer's impeccably dressed form and spotting Bub, their doberman puppy, at his heel, looking up at him with big, black eyes. Why they had named him Bub Dean did not know, but he'd assumed it had been a cruelty on Lucifer's part, since the dog seemed to be mostly his.

"What are you doing here?" 

"Believe it or not, I was invited," Lucifer replied, looking smug and far too amused for Dean's taste. 

"Where's S-" he began, but was cut off by Sam hurrying down the stairs, straightening his...

"A tie?" Dean gaped and Sam raised an eyebrow at him. He was dressed in black slacks and a white shirt

"Oh, you're home," he stated superfluously, then looked at Lucifer expectantly. "Okay?"  
Lucifer cocked an eyebrow and eyed Sam up and down. 

"A touch too CSI for a summer garden party for my taste, but I'll stress the _distant_ when introducing you..." 

Sam rolled his eyes and looked at Adam, who had entered behind him, equally dressed up and looking far too much like Lucifer. Dean waved his arms and three heads turned to look at him.

"Whoa, whoa. Hold the horses. What the fuck is going on here?" 

"We're going out," Adam said with a shrug and Sam fidgeted, looking sincere and hopeful. Dean's alarm bells started ringing. This was so bad, so bad... 

"Remember the college thing?" Sam explained, eyes round. "Well, there is a woman who could swing a large part of the paperwork and it'd be more or less waterproof..."

"...but?" Dean prompted darkly and Sam sighed. 

"No but! She happens to be one of Lucifers friends-"

"Worshippers," Lucifer corrected sharply, in exactly the same moment that Adam snorted "minions". Dean glared at Sam. 

" _No but_? Sam, you are literally making a deal with Satan to get back into college!" 

"That's not true!"

"Totally true!"

"It kind of is true," Lucifer muttered, looking at his fingernails and tutting at the dog at his feet, and Dean pointed a finger at him while glaring at Sam.

"See?"

"So what? It's his fault that I dropped out to begin with!" Sam snapped, then cringed and looked at Lucifer with an apologetic shrug. "Well, it is." 

Lucifer waved nonchalantly, throwing the puppy a treat he pulled from his pocket.

"Seriously, Sam, and you don't think there's a catch there?" Dean snapped his fingers in front of his brother's face to get his attention back where it belonged.

"The catch is that we'll be late if we don't hurry up," Lucifer threw in, sounding incredibly smug. Sam sighed. 

"Dean, come on..." 

"I don't believe this..." 

The front door opened again and Dean peered out the kitchen to see Cas shuffling around the entryway, a grocery bag in his hand. Finally. Reinforcements. 

"Cas, help me out here?" 

"What's the matter?" Cas asked as he came in and Dean saw he hadn't come alone when he spotted Michael tumbling out of his shoes in the entryway.

"Dean! Castiel told me Sam would be out with Adam and Lucifer, so I brought a movie and popcorn and I thought-" 

Michael fell abruptly silent when he walked into the kitchen and spotted the people standing around. Dean frowned sternly at Cas, who had put the groceries down on the counter and had opened the fridge to start sorting them in.

"You _knew_ that Sam was going to this..." He wiggled his hand. "Thing?" 

"Yes," Cas replied, throwing Sam a sour look. "I also told him that I do not approve, but he did not seem care about my opinion." 

"Ha!" Dean exclaimed, ignoring Sam's loud groan. He poked his finger at him. "See? This is two of us thinking that this is a shit idea! And I can't imagine Michael approves of-" he turned towards the former archangel of righteousness. "...Michael?" 

"I... I don't know," Michael replied dumbly, looking at Lucifer, then anywhere but Lucifer, and _oh_ , Dean sighed inwardly, he knew that look. It was what Cas had once referred to as 'being bothered by the physicality of my condition', which, as Dean had found out, translated to 'I want to climb into your lap and rub myself all over you, and I'm not sure how to deal with it'. 

Well, damn. There went his righteous backup.

What came as somewhat of a surprise to Dean was that the look that had crept onto Lucifer's face in response to Michael's was bluntly, unashamedly the same. Dean had never even known Lucifer could look like that. 

Huh.

Dean threw a glance at Adam, who cocked an amused eyebrow, then rolled his eyes. Sam didn't seem to have noticed the confused sexual tension that had spread around them, or if he had, he had elected to ignore it in favour of his own selfish goals. 

"That's you outvoted, Dean. Sorry," he shrugged grandly, then threw a look at the clock. "I think we should get going?"

"We should," Lucifer nodded sharply, looking away from Michael, who was turning over the DVD of The Shining in his hands. “Come, Beelzebub.” 

Puppy trailing after him in eager devotion, he left, stealing one last glance at Michael and smiling softly to himself as he walked out of the kitchen.

Dean glowered after him for a second, then turned his head and threw one look at Michael’s face before grabbing the DVD case from his fingers with a loud groan and putting it aside. Michael frowned at him in confusion and Dean shook his head.

"Forget about this one. I know what we're gonna watch..." He sighed and shoved Michael into the living room. He was just about to ask Cas to take care of the popcorn when Sam grabbed him by the arm on his way out. 

"Dean, tell me you're not going to make him watch porn," he muttered, sounding horrified, and Dean pulled a face. 

"Dude, does he look like porn is what he needs right now?" They both looked over to the couch, where Michael sat throwing around the decorative pillows Cas had brought back from IKEA one day, while glancing furtively out of the window. Dean turned back to Sam. "You need to stop pretending you're not a girl for a moment and tell me where your Dirty Dancing DVD is."

"It's not _my_ -" Sam began, then halted and narrowed his eyes at Dean. "You fucking hypocrite, Dean. You want to watch Dirty Dancing! Just admit it!"

"Cas will love it and I will get laid," Dean shot back. 

"Liar!" 

"Whatever you do," Adam suddenly threw in, leaning in as he shoved past Sam, "don't make him watch City of Angels. It was on TV last week and it messed them both up so bad."

***

Tumbling past the doorpost to his bedroom, Cas pressed up against him, Dean mumbled against Cas' lips,

"Michael is never allowed near a barbecue, ever again." 

"Are we really," Cas muttered, kissing his way down Dean's neck, then looking straight into his eyes, "talking about Michael now?" 

"No," Dean smiled, pulling Cas' shirt up over his head and throwing it aside as they moved towards the bed. Cas' lips were soft and his body pliant against his. "I'm just saying... There's only one thing that'll put a grin this big on someone's face... Oof!" 

They landed on the bed and Dean looked up at Cas' face above him, taking in the sight of him for a moment before pulling him down for a kiss. 

"And I'll be fucking damned if we don't outsmirk Lucifer tomorrow..."

-The End-


End file.
